Friday, July 5, 2013

It was about 4:00 p.m.


I approached a tattered church. The doors and windows were boarded up, discarded clothing and trash were strewn about. One sad tree stood in front. And the air smelled like strawberries. How? I stopped. There was a low breeze. Unopened mail skittered across the dirty sidewalk, past my feet. It was unmistakable. Strawberries.

12 comments:

  1. Beautiful story, like a ray of sunshine.

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  2. I'm intrigued - were there wild strawberries growing in the undergrowth...or perhaps there was 'something' in the air that gave one the 'scent' of strawberries....?

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  3. I've wondered what would be the scent of holiness.

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